“People keep saying that,” Nadine whined. “It sounds like one of those lies adults tell kids to convince them that life isn’t shit. Things are different for you, Noe. You’re beautiful. Your life is perfect.”
“No, it isn’t. It isn’t at all.” Noelle looked down at her cup, a frown marring the perfect beauty of her face. “I’m lonely, too. Sometimes I’m terrified of dying alone.”
Nadine wasn’t sure why she was thinking about that trip now. The rocky, forested scenery scrolling by the window had very little to do with the drive she had taken with her sister five years ago. Maybe it was because of how isolated it felt up here, like she was all on her own. But this time, it didn’t make her feel free or independent. She just felt alone.
(I’m terrified of dying alone)
A sob rose in her throat.
Don’t you dare cry.
“Is there radio?” she asked thickly. “It’s so quiet.”
Cal switched on the stereo and the sound of Hozier filled the car. Nadine let out a breath and turned her face away, missing his brief, speculative glance.
“Are you all right?”
“It’s just the heat,” she muttered. “And the shock of seeing that poor raven.”
“Nature is cruel,” he said softly.
And so are you.
The window was cool against her cheek. She breathed in the smell of expensive leather as the music washed over her. The sound system was incredible, she noticed distantly. That seemed to be a theme with this family; they seemed to make a point of surrounding themselves with nice things. Like birds building themselves a gilded, opulent nest.
She sat up a little, suddenly nervous. She hoped he wasn’t taking her somewhere expensive.
When they pulled up at a little café called The Heirloom, Nadine let out a sigh of relief. It had a wooden log exterior and was right across the road from a farm. Inside, all the furniture was folksy and looked handmade, but in that too-perfect way that suggested it probably wasn’t. There were gingham curtains and embroidered tapestries and placemats that looked like doilies.
“Hi there! Welcome to The Heirloom!” The waitress who came over to attend them looked like she was just out of high school, with a tumble of curly dark hair and bright red lipstick. She studied Cal with the sort of doe-eyed longing that made pining look romantic instead of desperate. “Do you want to hear our seasonal specials?”
“No. Just the steak and cheese omelet for me, thanks.” He set the menu down, and Nadine thought the girl was going to pass out when he rolled up his sleeves and hooked his sunglasses back into the open neck of his shirt. “Nadine? What do you want?”
The girl looked at Nadine. She had seen that look a lot when she used to go out with her sister and her friends, usually when Nikki was out of town and Noelle was forced to play babysitter. It was a look that said,Oh my god, why is she here?She kept thinking that she would get over her insecurities: that as she grew up, she’d outgrow the hurt and the self-doubt that had made adolescence such a hell. But now she was starting to think that wouldn’t happen. That getting older just meant becoming better at hiding your pain behind a mask.
“Um, I have a food allergy. I’m allergic to corn. I was thinking the avocado toast on sourdough bread might be fine, but would you be able to check the ingredients on the spread and the bread? That includes baking powder.”
“Yeah, I’ll ask the kitchen.” She collected the menus, her fingers brushing Cal’s. Nadine glanced at his face to see if he’d noticed, but his expression didn’t change. “Any drinks?”
“Black coffee. And some water for the table.”
“I’ll have some orange juice,” said Nadine.
Cal folded his arms as the waitress walked away. “Do you have to do that every time you go out?”
“Order orange juice?” she asked, widening her eyes at him.
He gazed back at her steadily, without blinking, and she felt her face get hot.
“Fine,” she said, looking away. “Yes, every time. Unless I know the place well enough.”
He toyed with his sunglasses. “What if someone makes a mistake? It seems like it would be easy to do.”
What a lawyerly question, thought Nadine. “Well, I don’t die,” she said, with a forced laugh. “It’s not a real allergy. I don’t get any inflammation, my throat doesn’t close up. I just get really sick for a couple hours. I guess it’s more of a sensitivity but if you tell that to people, they don’t take you seriously. They just think you’re being high maintenance.”
“I don’t think you’re high maintenance.”
Nadine nearly said thank you, but caught herself. She didn’t owe him anything. Especially not after all of his taunting, and his constant provocations.
